RINGS OF CHANGE.

Elaine and I had barely been married for a couple of hours when the above photo was taken at our wedding reception, held right here in the room I’m sat in now.

Several of the many photos snapped that day have already appeared in the blog, but never, I believe, has this one.

It was an occasion very special to the both of us, as the commitment of a wedding should be, though strangely I’d never before imagined myself as ever getting or being married, why I don’t know, it just never occurred to me that I would. But Elaine was barely divorced from her first husband when I asked her to be my wife and we became officially engaged.

Engagement means a ring, and to be honest funds were a bit lean just then to say the least, but my mum had a beautiful amethyst and diamond ring which my late dad had dug up in the garden one Sunday morning years before. She never wore it, and was happy to supply it for engagement duty.

Elaine loved it straight away, even more-so because of the way it came to light, and once altered to fit, she wore it proudly.

By that time we had been together, one way or another, for almost five years. I had no doubts in my mind, by then, about asking her to marry me and had known for a while that I would, and, I’m sure too, that she knew I would ask and that she would accept.

Funnily enough, I don’t remember us ever discussing marriage before I popped the question to her. It was as though we both understood that at some point it was going to be a part of our journey together and would unfold for us in its own time.

The journey that started that day – 29^th December 1995 – was destined to test our relationship and vows to one another far beyond the breaking point of many. One that was going to last a quarter of a century, plus roughly six short days.

But, had anyone whispered in my ear that afternoon that the two of us would one day celebrate our silver wedding anniversary together, I would have struggled to believe them.

As many of you will know, late the previous evening, we had sat wide-eyed, tight lipped and tightly holding hands in the surgeons consulting room, being told that cancer had invaded her body for the second time. Only this time it was far more aggressive and would be requiring far more radical treatment than before.

The news left us both struggling to grasp the concept of any long-term future. Because, back then three decades ago, cancer was still being spoken about in hushed tones. It was the big ‘C’ whispered as the small, almost silent, ‘c’.

“Got cancer? Lets’ face it, you’re gonna die bro’ – only a matter of time, and not much of that eh?”

Things are so different now, perhaps because so many are suffering, but back then that’s how it was.

The photo captures Elaine and myself together, frozen in a moment of undying time. She is smiling, laughing, seemingly without a care in the world. We had decided to tell only a couple of people about the news from the evening before; we didn’t want our mums to know just then and risk spoiling the day for them.

Also, neither of us wanted to allow cancer to gate crash our happy day and Elaine certainly didn’t need sympathy being thrown in with the confetti.

“Oh! Doesn’t she look lovely now but……..” (Bollocks to that, then and now!).

Elaine is slightly out of focus, caught mid-sentence in happy conversation, but it’s me the camera has found out in a thoughtful, almost private moment. Though stood by her side I have been somewhere else in my mind and just returned as the shutter clicked. (I’d learnt long ago, that the loneliest place in the world can often be found in a room full of happy people).

I can tell you now, without hesitation, exactly what my thoughts were right then, albeit thirty years have passed.

“Do we have much of a future together outside of this room?”

“Will we have a first wedding anniversary?”

“Will she live, or are we destined to be told this coming year will be her last?”

Look at the photo again. My eyes are witness to a thousand hidden fears, yet I think also that a certain resigned determination lurks there too. The fear was very real, in fact both of us would never really be free of it ever again, but we didn’t understand that at the time. Just as well, but it would not be too long before we realised that, though we may have been able to prevent cancer from gate-crashing the day, we weren’t going to be able to stop it from gate-crashing our lives.

Anyone aware of our story and seeing the picture for the first time, could be forgiven for thinking that maybe the cause of my expression is doubt, far from it.

If I say here that I knew full well what I was letting myself in for by marrying her that day, it would be a lie. Neither of us knew what lay ahead on the road for us, or just how long or short that road was going to be, but we had each other; the real commitment had grown between us over the previous years; the vows that afternoon were the icing on the cake.

We both knew we would stick together, love and trust, hand in hand, side by side until whatever end came out of the darkness to meet us.

I had no doubts that day, and no regrets have ever come out of it either.

Now at this point you may well be wondering where all this is leading to. Why bring up a wedding that happened thirty years back? Well, to some degree history is repeating itself for me.

On Boxing-day morning last year Marilyn and I became engaged!

 And, as before, engagement means a ring. But strangely, this time, it was the ring that brought about the engagement.

I’ll explain…

In all the years I’ve known Mar’ she has never worn a wedding ring. Her original one is quite a thick gold band which she found uncomfortable to wear, so left it off. Instead she wore a small solitaire diamond ring which, some years ago now, slipped unnoticed from her hand and despite an extensive search was never recovered.

Now I have always had a liking for jewellery – although I think too much of it on a man is a mistake- but I frequently do a bit of window shopping should the chance arise. When Marilyn and I started going places together we often found ourselves staring in the jewellers’ windows. I knew that she lamented the loss of that little diamond ring still, and gradually formed the idea of replacing it for her one day.

Time ticked on, until a couple of weeks before last Christmas when we travelled up to Salisbury to take a general look around the shops.

The antiques centre is a place we always visit, and there on display was a neat little ring sporting a row of diamonds.

“Why don’t you try it on?” I suggested.

Marilyn frowned, but the girl behind the counter, sensing a potential sale, already had the ring in her hand and offered it across.

It was Edwardian, and all I can say is that Edwardian ladies must have had extremely small hands and fingers. Mar’ is only five feet tall and, dare I say, in proportion, but it was way too small to fit her.

Later, in another shop window, we saw a nice ring of five small stones in a row. When I suggested going in to try it Mar’ looked puzzled but didn’t argue. Again a small ring and a very tight fit on her finger. It was nice, but sometimes you just know when something is not quite right and it seemed that way to us both.

We carried on shopping, and coming across another jewellers spotted a neat solitaire ring in the window. We head in, with Mar’ still wondering why she’s trying on rings instead of just looking at them.

The jovial lady assistant bids us to sit while she fetches the ring and its companions, set on a tray, from the window. As I look at her the words of Charles Dickens describing Mrs. Fezziwig in- A Christmas Carol- spring to mind “One vast substantial smile”. I know very well she’s silently assessing us; are we time wasting dreamers or real possible buyers? Having been married to a born saleswoman, and seen her in action at the many stalls we shared over the years, I know the look.

It is a delightful little ring but once again far too small even for Marilyn. Our jovial lady senses our real disappointment and suggests that another tray, from a side window we haven’t seen, may have something to our liking; and it does.

A white gold band with three diamonds, one central, flanked either side by two almost oval shaped stones. It is solidly made but with an air of delicacy, and punches above its size in the way it catches the light and casts it back out again.

Marilyn tries it on and it fits as if made for her.

“I think its 1980’s vintage,” says Mrs. Fezziwig, “And looks as if it’s never been worn.”

It’s a lovely item but Marilyn is hesitant, (I notice that she has glanced at the price) and suggests going for lunch and thinking about it.

Leaving the shop, and the rather crestfallen assistant behind us we head for a little pub we discovered on a previous visit. It’s our turn to be crestfallen now as we find they have stopped serving food so we sit with a soft drink apiece and mull over our day so far.

Getting engaged or married is not even in our conversation. But, of course we do discuss the rings and so decide to go back to the last shop.

It’s getting colder now as we re-trace our steps back through the crowded streets. Dodging fellow pedestrians I glance at the woman with me and can’t help thinking that it was here in Salisbury where my friend Mike made me realise just how lucky I have been in life (meaning Elaine) and how lucky I continue to be, meaning Marilyn.

She could easily be here walking along with somebody else if she wanted to. When we first started talking over the phone, a while after Elaine died, I ventured that it had been some four years since her husband had passed.

“No Mark, it’s been seven years since I lost Jeff.”

“Seven! Who are you seeing now then, surely there’s someone else by this time?”

“No, nobody, I’m still on my own.”

“What’s the matter with all the men that come in that pub then, are they all blind and bloody stupid.” (At that time she still worked three shifts in the tiny Oddfellows Arms in Wimborne).

A big laugh comes down the line to me. “No, I’ve had…offers.”

“And?”

“I was very flattered of course, but there was nothing that I felt was right for me, that’s all.”

Sometime later, when we started meeting regularly, and it was becoming apparent to us both that something more than friendship was beginning to develop I asked her the same question.

“I told you Mark, there were offers but nothing that I felt was right.”

I had to ask the now obvious question. “Why me?” Her two word answer has never been elaborated on.

“You’re different.”

As I walk along beside her now I’m none the wiser as to why, in her eyes, I’m ‘different’, but I’m really pleased that I am.

We reach the shop and it’s empty as we enter, only a male assistant behind the counter.

“We were here earlier…” I start to explain when he cuts in saying, “Ah yes, I’ll fetch my colleague”.

Mrs. Fezziwig glides in from the backroom, seeming to fill the space behind the counter like an expanding genie rising from the lamp; she smiles knowingly at us as I ask if we may see the ring again.

Floating across to the far window I know she feels that she has us hooked and it’s now only a matter of reeling us in; gently of course, no rushing.

Marilyn tries the ring on again and I know that it’s a done deal.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, yes I do. Do you?”

“Yeah, I think that it suits you perfectly.”

I feel here that she wants to say something more but isn’t sure what, quickly I look across to the genie, “This is the one, we’ll take it.”

She glows with commission-fuelled happiness as we conclude the transaction and boxes and bags our purchase for us.

“Happy Christmas” I say to Mar’.

“Thank you Mark, but you keep it at home for now please.”

I’m not too sure what her thoughts are just at this moment, and neither of us mentions the ring again. It comes home with me ready to become the Christmas present as intended, but I know full well the implications that come with it; and I’m pretty sure she does too.

We had Christmas with Marilyn’s son and his family. As previously, we had a great time and also, as before, I was made to feel welcome and at home. Marilyn and I save present opening for Boxing Day and the last present out of the bag, so to speak, is the ring.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d bring it now or save it for my birthday”.

“It was always meant for now.” I reply.

She unwraps it, and holds it between her fingers.

“Which hand shall I wear it on?”

“Left of course.”

She hands it to me and I push it firmly into place on her finger, it looks right and truly suits the hand it’s on.

A short silence follows which I know I have to break. “It really does look like an engagement ring doesn’t it?”

We look at each other and I continue. “Do you want to be engaged?”

“Do you?”

“Yes, I think I do.”

“I do too.”

And that was it, no previous talk about marriage or getting engaged we just are, it’s come about in the same natural way that it did for Elaine and I, and as then, I have no doubts that it’s right.  

Before we told anyone else we went to tell Simon, Mar’s son, and his family. I must admit to being a bit nervous, but they were over the moon to hear our news. Word soon got around and I’m glad to say that everyone we know seems to be pleased and happy for us.

Of course, now they keep asking “when’s the big day going to be,” but honestly, we have no plans as of yet.

The relationship between us has unfolded naturally and at its own pace, as did the one between Elaine and myself. It’s nice to have this commitment to each other, that isn’t just born of an exchange of vows, but also as before, has developed gently and solidly over time spent together.

It is though, a different situation for us now than the one Elaine and I faced. We are that much older and have had the majority of our lives. Thirty years back, Elaine and I had time on our side, that is, if the cancer could be held at bay, but now both Marilyn and I realise that our potential time together is limited by what nature allows. That’s OK, no point in railing against it, but it does sharpen your resolve not to waste too much of the time and chances that come your way.

Marilyn coming into my world, after the loss I had to endure when Elaine passed, was a lifesaver for me, and I mean lifesaver. I could never have envisioned then the possibility of another relationship, let alone being engaged or married. Maybe time is a healer after all, but only to a certain extent, as I know without any doubts also that I will always love Elaine no matter what or who comes into my life.

It is beyond me to change that, even should I want to; but of course, I never will.